


sigils, soulmates and the strangeness of fate

by calarinanis



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, BAMF Sansa Stark, Eventual Jon Snow/Sansa Stark, F/M, Jon Snow is King in the North, King Jon Snow, POV Sansa Stark, Past Joffrey Baratheon/Sansa Stark, Past Ramsay Bolton/Sansa Stark, Sansa Stark is Queen in the North, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-17
Updated: 2020-04-17
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:27:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23701555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/calarinanis/pseuds/calarinanis
Summary: AU. Sansa Stark had grown up with the romantic tales of soulmarks. However, they did not guarantee happiness despite their power to match soulmates together yet Sansa still craved for one to appear on her skin and free her from her struggles.One did not appear, however, until she was riding to Castle Black to reunite with Jon.
Relationships: Jon Snow/Sansa Stark
Comments: 14
Kudos: 145





	sigils, soulmates and the strangeness of fate

A soulmark was a rare thing in Westeros.

They might appear once or twice per generation and sometimes they did not appear at all. They might be from birth or might just appear, there was no logic behind their appearance simply magic as per Old Nan’s stories. They might not be reciprocated, appearing on one person alone meaning that person might know their soulmate and yet might not be destined to be together.

A mark would appear over time starting with the sigil and ending with the name if you were fortunate enough to get one, at least in Sansa’s opinion. They were a sign of true love, she had longed for one to appear since Old Nan first told them of the possibility. The last known one had been on Rhaegar Targaryen after his marriage to Elia Martell when a direwolf began developing.

The rest was history because then Rhaegar chose her aunt Lyanna, choosing to set aside poor Elia Martell. He crowned her aunt as his queen, something that Sansa thought deeply romantic at the time. Soulmates were destined to be with each other.

She had been too young to understand that soulmarks could be dangerous things which could tear a world apart.

Elia Martell and her children had been cruelly slaughtered because Rhaegar pursued his soulmate. Factions had risen and Westeros had been torn between sweet Queen Elia and fierce Lyanna Stark. A king had been killed whilst the Starks themselves had suffered terrible losses.

But, Sansa had been a girl of six or seven when she had first heard the stories. She was not yet wise enough to see the deadly consequences that followed Rhaegar’s actions, to see the war that erupted in Westeros which had cost the lives of her grandfather, uncle and aunt.

Her father, not willing to burden her with the terrible truth, had kept his silence of the true story of Rhaegar and Lyanna.

_“When you’re older, sweet Sansa, I shall tell you the story in full” Her father said as often as she asked which was most weeks if not every._

However, as she grew older she began to learn bits and pieces of the whole truth. Her aunt Lyanna had been carried off by Rhaegar against her will which had been a sobering thought for Sansa. Soulmarks were meant to be beautiful things to unite two people who were destined to be together. She reasoned it away that it was not the fault of the mark but the method in which Rhaegar had chosen to make himself known to his soulmate.

And, so she still believed that soulmarks were a wondrous fortune but they must be dealt with carefully. If she ever had that luck, she would need to tread cautiously to unite with her soulmate.

When King Robert came with the Prince Joffrey, she had hoped with all her heart that she would see a stag develop upon her body.

No soulmark had developed yet her marriage to Joffrey was proposed and she was happy to marry the tender, loving prince she saw. Perhaps, it was for the best that she did not have a mark after all. She would still have the opportunity to marry a prince who would one day be king. Soulmarks were no guarantee of happiness anyway, she had thought to herself.

_“My sweet lady, I am eager for you to become my wife” Joffrey had told her after the whole butcher’s boy debacle._

Yet, when her prince bade his men to dishonour her in front of the whole Court her mind again returned to soulmarks.

She pleaded with all the Gods she could think of for a mark to appear, for a reason to break her alliance with Joffrey even if it was with a lesser lord. She prayed for her soulmate to appear one day brandishing a sword dressed as a fine knight to save her. Maybe, the rose of the Tyrells would grow if she was lucky enough and she could be with Sir Loras. He was so handsome and a true prince, she had never seen him dishonour a woman.

A soulmate did not come but instead she was told she must marry Tyrion Lannister, the dwarf who did not even act like a proper lord. His appearance was frightening. He stank of wine. He was not a true prince.

_“I will not hurt you, Sansa, Rest assured.” Tyrion, then her lord husband, said drunkenly._

Still, she had dreamed of a mark appearing despite being a married woman. If only to save her from being trapped in a marriage that not even her husband had wanted. How unlucky she had been!

Ser Dontos had come to save her and she had consoled herself thinking even he would be an acceptable soulmate and yet still she was unmarked. Frustration grew, she had dreamt of a mark all her life and now when she needed a soulmate there was nothing. She knew they were rare but it was the only hope she had when she had arrived at the Vale with Lord Baelish.

_“Pretend to be my daughter, it will allow me to look after you” Lord Baelish had told her in his whispery voice._

She was grateful to him for taking her away from King’s Landing but her mind held suspicion that could not be easily quelled. Suspicion that turned out to be justified when they married her off to Ramsay Bolton under the guise that it would be beneficial to her so that she may get justice for her family.

If only that had been the case. Instead, again she was mistreated although this time was far worse than Joffrey had ever dared. Ramsay had no limits. She saw what a poor state he made of Theon, once so arrogant and proud, now reduced to a pitiful shell of his former self.

No longer would she waste her thoughts on soulmarks or soulmates.

_“You are my wife now and Winterfell is mine” Ramsay had said as he abused her._

She was alone. No one was coming to save her, all her fine dreams of a handsome soulmate were destroyed. She had already suffered her share of men, she would not dream of a soulmate who might save her only to abuse her. She was no-one of importance now. No-one would come to save Sansa Stark of Winterfell.

So, she saved herself. She convinced Theon to help her though she sees the reluctance and fear in his once proud eyes. They run fast and far without a plan. She knows not what to do or who to go to, yet she knew that anywhere was better than staying with Ramsay until he finally tired of her.

On her way to Castle Black with Brienne, she felt an itching on her left shoulder blade. It was mild yet repetitive and she wondered what could be the cause. Perhaps her fur had irritated her skin. Brienne looked at her curiously when the normally ladylike Sansa itched it repeatedly without a care about who might see her. Matters came to a head when Sansa asked Brienne to check her shoulder blade.

_“My lady, there appears to be a soulmark forming.” Brienne’s voice had been one of shock._

A soulmark showed Sansa that the Gods clearly had a twisted sense of humour.

She had prayed for years to be blessed with a soulmark and now when she had freed herself one chose to appear. She asked Brienne to look at it day by day so she could be updated with the progress of its appearance. It was three days after Brienne had first looked that she became certain of the shape, however she had some reluctance in telling Sansa because she could think of no suitable candidates.

A white direwolf on a black field had appeared on her left shoulder.

She wondered what that could mean for her. The direwolf was a symbol of the Starks and there were no Starks left as far as she knew save Arya who Brienne had seen. Bran and Rickon were possibilities but surely her soulmate could not be one of her baby brothers? They were Starks not Targaryens.

The thought had hit her faster than her mind thought to process.

Her bastard half brother, Jon, was a Stark by blood even if not by name. Regardless, they still shared the same father so he could not be her soulmate, it could not be possible. Before speaking, she would wait to see the name that formed.

_“Sansa” Jon said in a voice that was familiar yet laced with an unknown tenderness._

She had tried not to think how Jon had grown into his features, far more handsome than when he had left to go to the Wall. She tried not to think of the battle hardened body she had felt when they hugged. And most importantly, she tried hard not to notice how he smelt of fresh clean snow mixed with a muskiness she could not place.

The soulmark grew and her fear had been confirmed. The name Jon Stark had appeared on her shoulder blade and she was struck with a mixture of pleasure and worry. After all these years, she had received a soulmark.

She wondered if Jon had one with her name somewhere on his body. Unconsciously, she licked her lips and thought what it would be like to see Jon without his shirt.

If Jon did have her name, he said not a single word although he noted he was far more protective of her than she had remembered. Perhaps, that might be because they were now far closer than they had ever been as they shared each other’s company throughout the day and night reminiscing about Winterfell in its prime. But, it would not do for her to dwell upon someone who was so closely related to her.

The battle for their home was won but the cost was sweet Rickon, a mere child when she left and now a boy she did not recognise. Jon had held her that night in his tender arms as she screamed and cursed and cried for all the family they had lost over the years but most for little Rickon whose future had been cut away from him. Sansa had been too lost in her grief to notice the tears leaking from Jon’s eyes and the expression set upon his face.

_“Sansa” Jon said in that husky voice of his as the morning sun rose. “Is that a soulmark?”_

Her dress had slipped slightly, the edge of her mark peeping as they moved away from each other. Unconsciously, her hand crept to touch it as she thought of what she could say when she noticed what appeared to be a tiny ‘S’ showing on his wrist.

_“Is that an S?” Her voice seemed louder in her head._

He did not answer and the room fell quiet. She approached him, heart pumping faster and faster. His dark eyes looked at her but did not protest. She felt a strange heat burning in her face as they stood toe to toe, the closest they had ever been. Her nerves mounting, she watched as he rolled up his sleeve.

_Sansa Stark._

Her name was written as if she might write it herself accompanied by a miniature of Lady neatly drawn on a snow white field. She felt as if her heart might stop at any moment. It was true then, her half brother was her soulmate. Her legs felt unsteady and her mind was racing.

Jon held her upright, his eyes not leaving hers. She steadied herself but did not move, did not push his hands away. Instead, she tilted her head and pulled down her gown so that her mark was fully visible.

_Jon Snow._

She heard his heavy breath before she felt his calloused fingers brush her soulmark with a tenderness she had never expected. They stood unmoving for what felt like it could be eternity, neither of them willing to disrupt the moment. His hand moved upwards towards her face when she felt her feet step back.

_“We are siblings, we cannot.” She had said with a warm flush in her cheeks as she turned around and left with haste._

He did not chase after her although she swore she heard him let out a noise of frustration. She had always wanted a soulmate and here one stood. His mere presence caused a heat in her body, a desire she did not know she had and yet she had to reject him for they were Starks not Targaryens. They were both children of their father, a fact that echoed around her mind again and again throughout the day.

She tried to rationalise it in her mind. She was deeply upset and he had comforted her, he felt protective because she was his sister but she knew the truth. He had reciprocated, he desired her just as she did him which was strangely pleasing.

They busied themselves, avoided each other wherever possible and did not speak unless it was necessary. He was proclaimed King in the North, and she supported him every inch of the way as a dutiful sister should do for her brother but it was not the same. Beneath their painted smiles, there lay feelings that had not been voiced and issues not yet resolved for they did not mention that moment.

_“I have been called to Dragonstone and I must leave.” His eyes did not meet hers as he spoke. “You will be my Regent.”_

She did not move. His words washed over her and it was not until he left that she allowed herself to feel. Why did she have to be cursed so? To have a soulmate that she desired and not to be able to be with him. It would have been better if the mark never formed. It was a constant reminder of all she could not have, of Jon’s love that would never be hers. She bit her lip until it bled, unwilling to allow herself to cry when she had rejected him.

He was gone.

In his absence, she acted every inch the Lady of Winterfell. She did not let anyone learn of the heartache that plagued her, did not weaken in public and she most certainly did not fail him.

It did not matter that most nights she would be seized by furious tears despite her attempts to pretend she was unaffected.

Things improved when Bran and Arya returned home. They took her mind off missing Jon although sometimes the sight of Arya fighting in the courtyard stung her in ways she could not explain. Perhaps, it was their similar features. The only two Starks to have inherited the dark hair and grey eyes of their father meant that sometimes if Sansa squinted Arya could be the female Jon although definitely shorter.

Her soulmark itched from time to time in his absence.

She wondered whether it meant he was in danger or whether it was something else. It was random enough that she put it down to chance at least until he returned home with the Dragon Queen. She saw the looks that passed between them and felt her mark grow hot as if it was outraged at Jon’s actions.

_“Daenerys is our Queen” Jon had said to the whole of the North._

Sansa knew she could never agree but she abided by his decision. What choice did she have? They needed Daenerys to win the war even if it meant losing North according to Jon. Her temper had reared its head then, she would not lose her home to an outsider who had already taken her soulmate.

She was not cruel to Daenerys but she did not seek her friendship either for Sansa knew that neither of them cared enough for the other.

The alliance holds long enough to defeat the Night King. She questioned Jon’s decision again to bend the knee especially as it was Arya who killed the greatest threat to Westeros not Daenerys or her dragons. She had never been prouder of Arya than that moment when she and Tyrion left the crypt to see Arya being hailed as the ‘Hero of Winterfell’. The Starks did not need foreigners to protect them.

_“I’m a Targaryen.” Jon had said in his gruff voice to her and Arya._

They had been stunned into silence for several moments.

Sansa could not decide whether this revelation was more shocking or that he was her soulmate. Her mind raced ahead, they were only cousins. They could be together. He was Daenerys’s nephew and surely that was not acceptable. Would he still accept her though after being rejected?

She strolled away, hiding her emotions. It did not matter anyway, he had made his choice choosing the dainty looking blonde Queen with her dragons over the North. Over her. She would just have to resign herself to the fact that they were not meant to be happy together.

Soulmarks did not equal happiness, a lesson she should have learnt many times over by now.

She watched as Jon left her again.

Her heart could not stop rattling with fear that he might die even knowing that he would never be hers. The battle was going to be fierce, she had no doubt of that and she knew Daenerys would let Jon die to become Queen. She had sacrificed a husband and a child already along with millions of innocents to become Queen of Westeros, she would not hesitate to use Jon.

Then, she receives a raven telling her that Daenerys is dead and that it was Jon who killed her.

She makes the journey to King’s Landing despite every part of her body protesting because she had hoped never to return. But, the thought of Jon was enough to keep her moving. The hope of happiness spurred her on even if she was unsure of Jon’s feelings. He might be in mourning for Daenerys, he did love her. She had seen it for herself. But, she could be patient.

She does not see him until the vote to elect Bran the King of Westeros when he is dragged from prison to stand trial for his crime.

His hair was longer, messier and his eyes spoke volumes of his sorrow.

She was determined to ensure he would be pardoned. He would not suffer for protecting Westeros, she would use every bit of her influence to see him freed. A fleeting thought shot through her mind that perhaps Jaime had been right to kill the king. He had reason enough and yet still he had shouldered the burden of being the ‘Kingslayer’ for all these years. She never thought she might find some sympathy for him.

_“He’ll be going back to the Night’s Watch. They won’t release him.” Arya said as she kicked over a chair in anger._

That night, the two of them sat discussing every possibility to free Jon. Sansa was not sure if Arya knew the truth about her feelings but they were united in their cause. Father had been right, they were sisters and now they were close at last. They awoke in the morning, bodies slumped next to each other on the floor and Sansa surmised they must have fallen out of their chairs since she had a new bruise spanning the left side of her body.

They cornered Bran alone. It was useless as he would not do anything to aid their cause and Sansa sometimes wondered if he was their Bran. The Bran she remembered loved Jon and idolised him, this one did not seem too bothered about his plight. Arya raged and she reasoned but Bran did not even move on his stance.

_“I’m sorry.” He whispered in her ear as they hugged for the final time._

His curly hair brushed her face and she saw the resigned expression set upon his face. She offered all the comfort she could muster before forcing herself to stand back and bid him goodbye. She felt a stinging in her eyes and quickly schooled her face back to that of a noble lady.

Sansa had lost Jon for good. No one was able to escape the Night’s Watch, it was a life sentence and she would not wish desertion upon him. That would only mean he would be executed just as her father did to deserters when they were children.

Her fate was sealed. She would never be able to experience the heady happiness of love that she had once dreamed about. The desire that flooded through her body at his mere touch would never develop into anything more, she would be cursed to live her life alone and unloved.

They would never be able to be happy.

**Seven years later**

She awoke with a strange burning where her soulmark resided on her left shoulder.

It was merely uncomfortable to begin with, however throughout the day she noticed the intensity increased and it began to itch painfully. She touched it gently, wondering if perhaps she had a rash or allergy that had caused her soulmark to sting so badly but she could feel no marks or spots. It did, however, feel hot to the touch so she summoned a maid with cool water and fresh cloths to bathe it which helped to ease the pain.

Her soulmark had been nothing but a burden for all these years.

Yet, now it was troubling her physically. She decided upon a soft silk dress, more reminiscent of her time in the South than the warmer woolen dresses she tended to choose, to allow her soulmark to breathe in the cool air.

The cold stung against her shoulder as she heard her name muttered at the doors of Winterfell in a voice she had not heard in years.

“Sansa.” Jon said as he swayed on his feet. He was paler than she had ever seen and propped up by Tormund who for once looked so serious. Her eyes followed Jon’s arm and saw the blood that was spilling out of his chest.

She shouted for Maester Martyn whilst she ran towards Jon commanding all those around her to make haste and prepare Jon’s room. The room that she had left untouched for all of these years out of hope that one day Jon would return to her although she had never wanted this to be the reason.

“I am here, Jon.” She steadied her emotions and took his hand as Tormund lay him upon the bed. “I am here.”

Jon groaned as the Maester arrived and began prodding at his room. “Aye, I can die a happy man now.” His voice was slurred and his eyes were emptying of all the emotions she was accustomed to seeing. He felt a tiredness sink upon him.

“You will not die, Jon Snow. You will not.” Sansa punctuated every word as her heartbeat pounded against her chest.

His eyes closed and Sansa heard Maester Martyn assuring her he would do his best but there were no guarantees with a wound this deep. Her vision blurred for a moment. She was dimly aware of Tormund pushing her into the chair next to Jon as the maester continued his work.

She had not waited all these years for Jon to die.

They were soulmates, he could not die now. And, she would fight tooth and nail for him if he survived. She should never have allowed him to go back to the Wall. He was hers and she was his. Slowly, she felt his hand grow cold and it began to fall away so she held it tighter as if that would stop him dying.

“I have dressed the wound to the best of my knowledge, Your Grace.” Maester Martyn said. He was a small man and shaking now under the pressure, nervously looking at Sansa. “If he survives the night, his chances are good. I will remain with him as you may want to take rest.”

“I am staying here.” Sansa said in a tone most unlike her laced with anger and frustration and sadness mingled together. “I will not leave.” Her soulmark was still burning with a fury but it was not important.

The maester did not protest any further nor did Tormund leave either so they sat as three around Jon’s bed. She felt Ghost nestle in next to her with a mournful whine. Jon’s chest rose and fell with fitful coughs throughout the night, however his hand grew warmer and warmer. She did not let go all night.

He did not regain consciousness for a few days. After the first day, Sansa had to be persuaded to eat and leave Jon’s side so she could conduct her queenly duties. She did them but was sharp tempered with all, rushing through her tasks so she could return to Jon’s side. She had lost enough. She would not lose Jon as well.

Sat in the middle of a council meeting, she felt the burn of her soulmark stop abruptly. Fearing the worst, she hurried to Jon’s room making the necessary apologies to all the Lords of the North who had gathered for this meeting. She prayed he was still alive as her every step pounded the cold, hard floors of the castle whilst her heart threatened to jump out of her skin with every beat. Turning the corner, she entered his room.

“Jon.” Sansa said with relief. He was sat up in his bed, pale but alive with those dark eyes lifted to meet her own. She threw herself at him, hugging his body with all her strength almost as if to will him to survive.

Jon held her tightly, ignoring the searing pain in his chest. “I’m alive, Sansa.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead patiently waiting for her to release him.

“I’m sor-” Sansa began but Jon cut her off with a kiss. His lips were softer than she had ever imagined and it sent a frisson of delight down her body. She responded instinctively with kisses of her own as she felt Jon cradle her face. They pulled apart for a moment and she stared with wonder at how beautiful he was with his lovely curly hair that she itched to touch so she did. She wound her fingers through his hair marvelling at his softness as she leant forward to kiss him again.

Hearing a cough, they quickly parted. Sansa could feel the flush in her cheeks and tried to put on the noble lady mask that she employed often. Smoothing down her hair, she tried to compose herself as she stepped away from Jon. Now, her soulmark felt so delightfully cool as if she had finally managed to please it.

“Why is it that someone with such a small pecker gets such a beautiful woman?” Tormund’s eyes glinted with mirth as he looked at the scene in front of him. Sansa was usually cold like ice yet she was blushing and Jon Snow was smiling, a welcome change from the serious boy he remembered. “Good you’re alive, Snow”

Jon laughed wryly. “Good to see you, Tormund.” Though he and Sansa were apart, he still felt her small, warm hand in his own.

“You make a bad habit of dying, boy” Tormund said brashly with a smirk. “Lucky your lady was here to save you.” His words did not betray the fear he had felt when he had brought Jon back to Winterfell, in all essence nothing but a corpse.

Sansa laughed, a lovely sound after so long. “It seems fate had a strange way of reuniting us after I believed all hope was lost.” After I rejected you, she added on silently. She would not lose the chance to be with her soulmate again.

“If only I could remain here.” Jon had never felt such happiness, was loath to give it up and yet knew he would have to return to the Night’s Watch. The vow was one for life after all. “As soon as I’m recovered, I’ll have to return”

Tormund could have shook him. “You died twice over for them, your time is done.”

“You were as good as dead when Tormund brought you, Jon.” Her tone was stubborn. She would not let him return.

Jon knew Sansa would protest but he could not break his vow. “But, I was not dead. I’m still alive, my love.” The word escaped him and he saw Sansa’s eyes widen. He looked at her, so beautiful with that vibrant red hair and determined Tully eyes, and drank her in. This would be all they could ever be.

“Jon Snow died for the Night’s Watch. You’re not him anymore.” Sansa had been ruthlessly efficient whilst he was unconscious despite wanting to spend every moment with him. “I had Bran legitimise you as a Stark.”

Tormund quietly slipped away, a feat that was quite impressive for a man of his stature. He did not want to be present for this conversation. Although, it would be rather interesting to watch Jon Snow squirm for he had no doubt that Sansa would get her way in the end. She was a fearsome woman.

Jon could not believe what Sansa said. All his life, he had wanted to be Stark and now Sansa had done so without his permission. He had sworn to the Night’s Watch. Anger bubbled up, she had taken away his choice. “I had made my peace with being the Lord Commander”

“I rejected you once and I should never have done so. This is our chance, Jon. Our chance given to us by fate.” Sansa knew she had been selfish but she would have done it a thousand times over to have Jon. “I could not watch you give yourself back to them just to die again.” Her voice was raised.

Despite being angry, he felt strangely attracted to this Sansa. To see her lose her composure and stand there with crossed arms and unflinching eyes, it only increased his desire. “That would have been my choice, Sansa.” He stepped towards her.

“Be angry with me, I don’t care.” Sansa felt electric shoot through her veins at the sight of him standing so close to her. “At least, you’re safe and you’ll be safe here.” With me, she wanted to add on. But, she could not make him love her.

Jon felt the frustration build. She was so gorgeously persistent and he wanted nothing more to kiss her, their argument be damned. She was biting the edge of her lip, something that sparked his next action. He gave in to his feelings and kissed her which definitely took her by surprise judging from the way her eyes grew bigger. He moved closer again, their bodies pressed against each other as his hands snaked around her waist. He felt a pain shoot through his chest but he was too busy to care.

She could feel his muscles push against her skin and his fingers delicately stroke the skin of her side whilst his kisses moved downwards towards her chest. She arched her neck to the side as he planted kiss after kiss whilst her hands explored his chest. She brushed her fingertips against his nipple, careful to avoid his wound, and was gratified by his groan. She had never been with a man like this who was tender and fierce in the same instant. His lips were now kissing the tops of her breasts and she could not help the noises that escaped her mouth as the pleasure intensified.

They moved against the wall in sync, his hands working deftly to untie her dress whilst she unlaced his shirt. Their hands freely roaming across each other’s bodies was all Sansa had ever wanted in a man. She felt him tug away her smalls and his fingers crept up her thigh, teasing it inch by inch. She let out a little moan.

“Sansa.” Jon’s voice was gruffer than normal as he said her name like a question. All he wanted was to take her against the wall but he knew of her abuse and would not take her for granted.

Sansa took him in her hands and drew spirals around his tip in response. “Jon.” Her voice was playful and she inclined her head. “I need this”

That was the only response he needed as his fingers carefully crept inside her. She was slick with wetness. He found her inner spot and massaged it slowly at first then harder and harder as her moans grew breathier and louder. She was panting, her body shaking and then he knelt to finish her with his tongue. He lapped up her juice, swirling his tongue around until he could delight in the taste of her sweet cum. Her body was like that of a goddess, perfectly formed and yet so imperfect too with freckles and moles like those across her stomach. She shuddered and he heard the loudest moan yet.

He stood up and hoisted her back to the wall as their mouths met again and again to kiss, each more desperate than the previous one. He looked at her face, flushed with a slight sheen of sweat, as she pulled him closer resting her weight in his very capable hands. He pulled her down onto him, entering her for the first time at a leisurely pace. They had waited so long for this moment, he wanted it to last as long as possible.

She heard his grunt as his seed released into her and she looked into his eyes normally so sombre and now lit up with passion. His hair was stuck to his face, she could feel the sweat run off him and yet she had never been happier. She reached up to brush away a stray curl as he set her on the floor and sat down himself. They leant against each other in silence for several moments, content to let the cool of the floor seep into their bodies.

“Sansa.” She liked the way he said her name. “Thank you.” His face was earnest as he met her ocean blue eyes. “For making me a Stark.” He quickly tagged on as he watched a smile appear on her face.

She rested her head on his shoulder. “Bran did that, not me. I just saved your life.” A smile played across her lips as she spoke in that teasing tone.

They stayed in that position for the rest of the night, talking of everything and anything until sleepiness took them both. It was not the most comfortable especially with the rough bricks pressing into their backs and the cramped position of their legs but it felt like home to Sansa. She had finally been lucky enough to claim her soulmate.

**Epilogue**

Bliss had settled itself upon Winterfell. It was evident to all those who visited, to all those who lived that Queen Sansa and King Jon were a well suited couple if prone to fiery arguments in front of the court.

Sometimes, Sansa felt as if she was dreaming. That she was still trapped in King’s Landing waiting for a soulmate to save her or stuck with Ramsey and his terrible abuse until she died. Then, she remembered that she had saved herself. And, it was only then that she had been so lucky to receive a soulmark although at the time it had caused problem after problem. She was living her youthful romantic dreams with Jon even if they were both hardened from all the years that they were just surviving.

They had married in the godswood in front of the whole of the North, had sworn their vows and then kissed for everyone to see. They were Jon and Sansa Stark of Winterfell, King and Queen of the North. Arya had returned from her travels specifically to see their marriage, Bran had sent his blessing and gifts with Brienne and they took their blessings in the crypt from their father and his mother.

Two children followed in quick succession, a blessing that Sansa and Jon were so grateful to receive from the gods. Little Lyarra and sweet Eddara were born less than a year apart and yet they were so very different. Eddara was a lady much like Sansa had been although far more vocal in her displeasure whilst Lyarra was very much like Arya if slightly more solemn in her manner. A third was on its way and Jon was certain it would be another girl although Sansa hoped for a boy this time. It would be nice to honour Robb this time, he had paved the way for the North to be its own kingdom.

Truly, soulmarks could be so dangerous yet for Sansa it had led to her every dream being fulfilled.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
